When Darkness Calls
by Pharaoh-chan
Summary: A short drabble about Ryou receving the Millennium Ring and how he makes a pact with the dark spirit.


Just a short drabble and what not.

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If I could count how many times my name has been spelled wrong…they wouldn't fit on both of my hands. Not that I care. It's fine. But when I tell you once, I expect you to remember it. Because if you had any respect for me at all, you'd listen to what I said the first time.

I feel like a cliché. A walking cliché. I don't know how to handle it. Not only do I feel like a cliché but I feel like a dumb one. Like that coin with two sides. I feel sad, like I'm doing something wrong at first…but then I get to thinking and I say, "Hey, it can't be me who's doing something wrong. It's got to be them." Them meaning the stereotypical idiots out there who have no room for compassion within their swelling pride. So then upon thinking about said idiots, I get pissed off. What right do they have to tell me I don't belong when it's clearly them who do not belong. Then I start getting cynical. Like how terrible things should happen to them. They lose an arm, or they get hit by a car. It makes me feel better knowing that something like that could happen. Not that it has or ever will. But that it _could_.

But then the thought vanishes as soon as it came and I feel guilty, remorseful. Then I feel like karma's about to come back around and bite me in the ass, and I'LL be the one that something bad happens to.

Then I'll get sad again because my life is already miserable enough with an amputation accompanying me. Or worse.

By the way, with the name, it's just an example of something that bothers me. Not that it happens every day. Oh, I got off track didn't I? I tend to lose focus now and then. My mind is just so…scattered. I try not to be. It's hard being alone so much. I feel like I've been cast out of society. Cast out of my family. I don't have a family actually. My mother died. My sister died. Maybe I should've died with them because it'd beat having to live in this sick world any longer.

I used to think my father would come back for me but I don't think that anymore. I remember when I was younger, I'd stare out the window thinking wistfully, 'He'll come back. I know he'll come for me.' But once upon a time ended for me and no, he never did come for me. I don't waste my time anymore.

Though he did come back once. But only once.

He looked down at me, smiling fondly, as if I was a little dog and presented me with a package.

I tore it open feverishly, as many excitable children do, with little regard. The object inside was beautiful.

"Is it real gold, daddy?" I asked at the time, to which he nodded yes. I was exuberant as I slipped the twine rope over my head, letting the object rest daintily against my chest. It looked well, my father had told me. I beamed up at him proudly and had never taken it off since.

My father was a cynic to have ever given me this. He must've known what kind of a person I was going to turn out to be. And he gave me the power to accomplish what I needed to.

The world was a sick place, full of psychotics, maniacs, murderers and liars. Nobody deserved to live. My classmates were no different, my high school serving as a mini example of said world.

Even the valiant were lying men.

So somebody gave me a key and stood me in front of a door, so to speak. I did as many children would in curiosity.

I opened it.

And inside I met someone. Someone who's thinking was similar to mine, yet they had the power to carry out their dreams and wishes. Someone who was stronger than me and could do what I feared was immoral. Someone who'd already been on the border of the afterlife.

I wanted the power they had. You would be crazy not to take it. The truly crazy are the ones who pass up a good opportunity when handed to them.

My sister was dead. My mother was dead. Even though my father was alive, he was dead to me. I had no one and nothing to lose. Nothing to hang onto. And what good are morals if they're created by the very people who are evil?

"Please help me." I had begged, on my knees pleadingly.

The devil of darkness smiled down at me, eyes lusting with power.

It was done.

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Just a recreation of Ryou receiving the Millennium Ring, and how he makes a pact with the dark spirit. I happen to be on both sides of the fence. It's easy to believe Ryou's being controlled against his will, but I tend to see him as a sadist who hates the world for treating him different and wanting the chance to get back at them. He also has nothing to lose, since his family is dead and his father ignores him anyway. Also, stating what I did about how he's bothered about his name is just an example so you as the reader can see how he thinks and views the world. Something as simple as a misspelling of HIS name, bothers him to the point of wanting to hurt someone because to him, it's all about respect, and since no one listens to him, he feels disrespected. He also talks about the world being sick, but in his mind, what he thinks and feels is justifiable, so it could be argued that he is also one of those sick people, but in his mind he isn't.

Oki, I'mma shush now. XD


End file.
